


Language Barrier

by BunniesAndBooks



Category: Glee
Genre: Fluff, International!Klaine, Language of Flowers, M/M, Summer Camp, first meeting AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 08:14:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7676920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BunniesAndBooks/pseuds/BunniesAndBooks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Kurt met Blaine was during the first piano lesson of summer camp, and they are quickly enamored by one another. The problem? They don’t share a joint language, making actually speaking to each other difficult.</p><p>Written for the 2016 TDB Fic Gift Exchange.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Language Barrier

**Author's Note:**

  * For [perry_avenue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/perry_avenue/gifts).



> I recieved some really awesome prompts for this (and let me tell you, had I been more of a mystery writer, Sherlock!Klaine would have been glorious!), but the one I settled on is this little gem:
> 
> Klaine in a foreign country where neither speaks the language. They could be on vacation, working, going to school, at a conference, doing a show, whatever, but there's a language barrier.
> 
> Hope I meet your expectations perry_avenue! It's been a blast to write!
> 
> (Also worth mentioning, I don't actually speak either Italian or French, which is both featured in this fic. Blame Google translate for any errors.)

“I got in!” is the words Kurt greets his best friend Mercedes with, the words passing his lips seconds before he even opens the front door to let her in. He has the biggest smile on his lips as he does, however, and the moment she is past the doorway he is enwrapped into the fiercest of hugs.

“Congratulations Boo!” she says, squeezing him to her closely. “I knew you could do it!” she continues as she lets him go, smiling at him when they finally come face to face, and tilts her head in confusion, “But what is it you’ve done exactly?”

“The music camp!” Kurt says excitedly, clapping his hands together quickly. She looks none the wiser. “Oh come on ‘Cedes,” Kurt says, whining ever so little. “You remember that summer camp Ms. Pillsbury talked about in class a few months back? The one she’d be teaching at?”

Mercedes merely shrugs her shoulders. “Not a clue,” she says, apologetic.

“The one in Germany? With kids from all over Europe? Where they teach you everything there is about music?” Kurt continues, looking at her for any sign of recognition, not finding a single one. “You were wearing that new purple top of yours for the first time when she spoke. The one with the rhinestones.”

“I remember the top, and how Sam thought it locked gorgeous on me,” Mercedes says thoughtfully, but ends up rolling her eyes in defeat. “But nothing about a singing camp. Sorry Kurt. Though honestly, this all sounds a little bit too much like Camp Rock to me.”

“No worries,” Kurt waves her lousy memory away. After two years of friendship since they met the first day of orientation he’s used to how she sometimes her memory isn’t exactly up to par, especially not when her _boyfriend_ Sam is involved. “And shame on you! Likening this historically prestigious camp to that thing is horrendous. But, I digress. The important part is that _I got in_! Do you realize how huge this is? Only _five_ people in our year is allowed to go, you know! This could be the thing that will set me on the path to fame!”

Mercedes rolls her eyes. “To be one of five people from our school to go to music camp isn’t exactly that special Kurt.”

“Oh, no no no,” Kurt says, shaking his head dramatically. “Not just from our school Mercedes. One of five from the entire _country_.”

*

“Cosa vuoi dire?” Blaine shouts as he stamps down the stairs, following his mother through the house. “What do you mean, ‘I have to come with you’?”

Pam shrugs, walking into the kitchen casually as ever, gathering out some supplies from the cabinets to get a start on dinner. “Your father was unexpectedly called away on business, so he won’t be able to look after you as we planned. Don’t worry, music camp isn’t as horrible as you make it out to be.”

“Oh no mom,” Blaine says, rolling his eyes indignantly, “it’s every bit as horrible as I say it is. You remember the last time you brought me along? ‘Cause I do! And I would very much like to forget all about it. I never want to see another snail in my life!”

“They were French!” she shrugs off, like that explains everything, which it doesn’t. Why any eighteen-year-olds would ever think of to stuff the pillow of their piano teacher’s thirteen-year-old kid’s pillow with snails is beyond Blaine. He still has nightmares about it.

“That’s no excuse!” Blaine says, waving his hands around, frustrated beyond belief. “And what about _my_ summer? I’m seventeen years old for crying out loud! I can handle being home by myself for a few months!”

“Oh, I know you’re seventeen Blaine,” Pam placates her son, “But if you think for one second that I would leave you alone the entire summer, you clearly don’t know me very well.”

“Then leave me with Wes’ family!” Blaine says angrily, dragging his fingers through his hair and grimacing at the sticky feeling his hands are left with at the action. “Or David’s! I don’t care! Anything is better than that camp!”

“Now, now, Blaine,” Pam says, pointing a frustrated finger at him. “You’re coming with me, and that’s that. You’ll be having fun. You’ll see.”

Blaine merely glares at his mother in disbelief, before throwing his hands in the air and stomping his way back to his room, throwing the door closed behind him with a satisfying clash.

*

Despite knowing he’s stuck in the middle of the woods for the coming few months, Kurt can’t help but be mesmerized by the camp. It’s bigger than he’d imagined, with a big lake not too far from the main facilities. The cabin he’s staying in isn’t too shabby either, although the thing he’s been most impressed by so far is the cabin intended for piano lessons.

With floor to ceiling windows alongside one of its walls the cabin had definitely struck an interest in Kurt. The collection of pianos hadn’t been bad either, not by a long shot; containing everything from an old baby grand in the back to the smaller studios and consoles in the front. Kurt had been longing to get his hands on them from the moment he saw them.

In the end he’d had to wait three entire days before he was scheduled for his first lesson, but the moment he was sat down on one of the benches, the piano keys mere inches from his eager fingers Kurt couldn’t care less about that. All he wanted was for his teacher to arrive so he could begin to play the gorgeous instrument for real. Sadly the baby grand in the back had been occupied when he’d entered the cabin, but Kurt was more than happy with the studio piano he’d ended up with.

He was also quite sure he’d get the opportunity to play the baby grand at least once before the summer was over; he was in no hurry.

“Good morning campers,” a voice from the front called out, startling Kurt from where he’d admired the pianos. Before him stood a woman, with dark curls framing her face as she looked out at her class. If Kurt was to take a guess he’d suppose she was in her late thirties or early forties; especially with the way her amber eyes playfully looked around the room. “My name is Pam Anderson, you can call me either Pam or Mrs. Anderson,” she continued, moving around the room slowly. “I will be teaching you about the wonderful art of playing the piano this summer. And don’t worry, I won’t be treating my fellow Italian kids like they’re special, unlike some of my colleagues…” Here she coughed out a barely hidden ‘Sue’, making all the teens, Kurt included, laugh. Kurt had yet to be subjected to the Russian teacher, but the stories he’d been told by fellow campers had said it all.

Just as the laughter had died down the door flew open, a dark haired boy drawing Kurt’s attention as he hurdled through the door.

“Scusa,” the boy rushed out to say, throwing his satchel on the floor near the front and walking up to the teacher. “Scusate il ritardo.”

“Non ti preoccupare,” Mrs. Anderson answered the boy, before turning back to Kurt and the rest of his fellow campers. “This is my son Blaine,” she introduced, motioning to the boy in the background who waved awkwardly. “He’s my assistant of sorts this summer, and he’ll help you as much as he can. His English is limited though, as you might have gathered from our little exchange there, so be aware of that. But don’t dismiss him for that either – he’s better than even me at the piano, so just know that he can help you just fine if you give him the chance.”

Kurt on his part missed most of what Mrs. Anderson had said, instead too preoccupied by staring at the young stranger – Blaine – adoringly. Gosh, was the boy gorgeous; beautiful hazel eyes, plump lips that Kurt would beg for the opportunity to worship, not to mention the muscles that bulged under his simple t-shirt. Kurt was mesmerized.

Not too mesmerized to miss the rapid French being spoken behind him though, too low for the teacher to hear, if she even knew French in the first place.

“Such a shame he doesn’t speak English,” an obnoxious boy Kurt recognized from his first day at camp said. “It’s a good thing he doesn’t need to to be able to scream my name when I fuck him.”

“Ferme ta gueule, Sebastian!” Kurt hissed at the boy, angry that someone could be so vile about someone so beautiful. “Just, shut up!”

“Well, well, well,” Sebastian grinned, leaning over his piano as Mrs. Anderson walked back to the front. “The little princess knows French, huh? Too bad you have such a gay face, otherwise we might have had fun this summer!”

Just as he was about to retort Kurt was interrupted by Mrs. Anderson, who was not amused by their bickering. “Care to share with the class Mr. Smythe? Mr. Hummel?”

“No,” both of them said in unison; Kurt genuinely sorry whilst Sebastian mostly sounded cocky about it.

“Well then,” Mrs. Anderson said, much happier now that she could continue. Kurt was too intrigued by her son at her side to focus completely on her words, but he got the gist of it all, and when they were all asked to practice the piece she handed out Kurt was quick to flex his fingers in preparation.

When he was young Kurt had loved listening to his mother play, and had begged her to teach him what she knew. She had been his first teacher, and after her death it had been the one thing that made him feel especially close to her.

It was their thing.

So the moment he touched his fingertips to the keys Kurt was lost to the music, allowing the rhythm to take him over, the sensation of the ivory against his skin sending him down memory lane as it always did.

Meaning he was taken utterly by surprise when a voice spoke up behind him.

“Non! Non.”

Turning Kurt found himself face to face with the beautiful boy from earlier. Blaine.

“Uhm,” Kurt stuttered out, his face blushing. “Sorry?”

Reaching over him Blaine pointed to the notes on the stand, specifically against the little f hidden beneath the line Kurt had been playing.

“Fortemente,” Blaine said, explaining clumsily, pushing down on the keys hard for emphasis. “Fortemente. Capisce?”

Kurt smiled and nodded. He knew what the note meant – he had just missed it as he played the first time. Blaine was awfully cute though trying to explain things though. Even though Kurt couldn’t _actually_ understand the words he said. “Yes,” Kurt said. “Uhm, si?”

Grinning, Blaine nodded. “Blaine,” he said, reaching his hand out to Kurt.

Smiling in return Kurt took his hand and shook it. “Kurt.”

“Blaine?” Mrs. Anderson called from the other end of the room, motioning Blaine towards her.

“Scusami,” Blaine told him, giving a sweet smile before he left.

Kurt was sad to see him go, but it might be useful as well. Maybe then his heart would stop beating quite so quickly.

~*~

“Don’t think I didn’t see that today Blaine,” his mother teased him as they prepared for bed. “Kurt is quite sweet though, isn’t he?”

“Mom!” Blaine said incredulously, blushing furiously. “What?!”

“Oh, don’t act stupid Blaine,” she grinned devilishly. “You know you like him, it’s obvious from the way you’ve smiled the entire day.”

“Oh, shut up,” Blaine grumbled, eyes fixating on the roof to keep his eyes away from hers.

“So when will you ask him out?”

“Mom!”

His mother merely cackled, saying good night between massive chuckles.

It didn’t stop Blaine from falling asleep with a big smile on his own face though, excited at the prospect of seeing Kurt again.

~*~

Piano lessons were quickly becoming a favorite of Kurt’s. And while most of that had something to do with the very cute assistant teacher and the way Blaine would smile every time their eyes met, Mrs. Anderson did indeed teach a very good class as well.

But still. Blaine. Kurt felt like such a clichéd teenage girl with a crush; like his stomach was filled to the brim with butterflies each and every time Kurt caught eye of the gorgeous Italian boy, or how he was certain his eyes were literally filled with hearts whenever he thought about Blaine.

Which he did. Often. About those beckoning lips mostly, and how soft they would be beneath his own. Or how strong those arms would feel around his back, holding him close.

The only thing wrong about it all was the small fact that they had yet to actually speak to one another. Like, actually speak, instead of trading a few clumsy words the other couldn’t understand when Blaine would correct Kurt’s piano playing. (On a side note: Kurt had definitely begun playing his pieces wrong a tad bit more often. What? It gave him a few more minutes with Blaine close to him, didn’t it?)

The language barrier was definitely the biggest obstacle between them, Kurt would mull over dejectedly whenever he had a thought to spare. Which was such a shame, since Blaine really seemed like such an interesting and sweet guy. But how could something ever happen if they couldn’t even communicate?

It was hopeless.

Which was why the white flower being placed on his piano took him by surprise, making him press down on the wrong keys and sending a very off key ringing through the room. Wincing, Kurt looked up at Blaine, who was giggling to himself. Grinning himself, Kurt looked away bashfully, only peeking back to look over the flower. Plucking it down from its perch on the piano Kurt lifted it to his nose and inhaled its rich, fragrant smell.

Tipping his head inquiringly Kurt gazed up at Blaine who merely smiled, handing him a small piece of paper before walking away, an adorable flush on his cheeks.

Only four words were written on the small note.

 _Gardenia. Look it up_.

Kurt would guess Blaine had asked his mother to write the note; the writing was certainly a bit on the more feminine side, and quite similar to the penmanship Kurt recognized as Mrs. Andersons.

Tucking the note in his pocket Kurt placed the flower back onto the piano, right in his line of sight, making him sigh dreamily every time it caught his eye. He couldn’t wait to see what it meant.

For once the lesson couldn’t end swiftly enough, though it was bittersweet to walk out the door, leaving Blaine behind. The minute he was back in his own cabin though Kurt was quick to bring up google on his phone, immediately googling the meaning of the gardenia. What he found made his cheeks redden with equal parts joy and embarrassment.

 _You are lovely_.

Oh Blaine, it’s on, Kurt thought gleefully, clutching the flower to his chest.

~*~

Blaine had gotten the idea with the flowers from an old book from home, and it had seemed as a good idea as any to communicate with Kurt. Neither of them spoke a language the other understood anyway; at least the language of flowers was consistent. It would work long enough for Blaine to figure something else out. Something more permanent.

Because it wasn’t like he could have his mother come translate every time he wanted to speak to the other boy, now could he? He could just feel the potential embarrassment just thinking about it. Asking any of his fellow countrymen here at camp weren’t an option either; he knew none of them, didn’t even know most of their names come to think of it.

No, having someone translate for him wasn’t an option. Meaning he would have to learn English or something himself.

His mother would be happy about that at least. She had been pestering him about learning the language for years, calling it an ‘useful life asset’ for as long as Blaine could remember. He’d just never felt the desire to do so, so he hadn’t. Until now. Now he kind of wanted to learn, if it would help him connect with another person.

And just like he’d predicted, his mother was more than happy to help him learn when he asked her.

“Of course I’ll help you, Bambino!” she’d said, hugging him tightly. But just to be a pain in his ass she had also looked into his eyes and teased him. “It’ll make it easier to talk to pretty little foreigners as well, won’t it Blainey? Far easier than pestering your poor old mother to take you miles and miles to the nearest flower shop, right?”

He’d been indignant at first, but of course she’d been right. It was easier. Thought the pretty white camellia waiting for him by his cabin door had been pretty sweet as well. Especially considering its meaning.

 _You’re adorable_.

~*~

It had taken Kurt a while to find the proper flower to give back to Blaine, being stuck at camp in the middle of nowhere and all, but he’d been satisfied when he’d at last found the perfect one to give Blaine. And he had make sure to find a few extra flowers to stock up with; who knew the next time he would find someone to allow him to follow along to town for grocery shopping…

But what had followed was days of happy anticipation. Every time he found himself with a new flower in his hands Kurt would smile dopily, blushing each and every time he’d find the meaning behind it. Like the pretty narcissus with its hidden meaning of _staying as sweet as you are_ , or the simple daffodil, telling him _the sun is always shining when I’m with you._

Blaine really was such a romantic. Kurt only wished he could actually _talk_ to the boy, not just skirting around each other with their frankly limited options in flowers.

Which was why he decided to do something about it.

Approaching the fiery Latina with Italian roots, Santana, had been nothing short of nerve-wracking. Her steely facial expressions and tough personality had almost had him walking away before he’d even asked her if she’d be willing to teach him a little Italian, but in the end he’d powered through. Which he was glad about, because she really wasn’t as frightening as she seemed at first sight.

“Fine Porcellana,” she’d said, rolling her eyes. “Just introduce me to that gorgeous blonde you came here with and we’ll call it even.”

In the end Kurt wound up spending his fair share of evenings with the Italian girl, as well as with Brittany from back home. The two girls had quickly hit it off after Kurt had introduced the two to one another. He didn’t mind; Brittany was a good buffer on those evenings when Santana got irritated that Kurt didn’t learn quite fast enough for her liking.

But he did learn, and soon enough he wouldn’t need flowers to talk to the handsome Italian boy.

~*~

“Ti amo?”

Blaine groaned, dragging his hands over his face, embarrassed. “Mamma!” he whined.

“Blaine,” she said patiently, a devilish smile on her face. “You know you’ll tell him. And soon, I hope. He’d be a precious son-in-law.”

“Mom!” Blaine cried, scandalized. With his eyes wide open in horror, Blaine merely stared at his mother.

“What?” she laughed. “You know I’m right. I’ve seen the way you gawk at that boy. Hell, I’ve seen the way _he_ gawks at _you_.”

Stunned, Blaine felt his jaw drop open. “…He does?” Blaine said, feeling a smile stretch his lips wide.

His mother looked over at him, before smiling herself. Reaching over, she pulled Blaine over to herself, hugging him close. “Of course he does,” she said, soothing. “How could he not? My son is a catch after all.”

“Thanks Mamma,” Blaine said, smiling softly, his head resting peacefully on his mother’s shoulder.

“You’re welcome,” his mother smiled. “Now, back to business. Ti amo?”

“…I love you.”

~*~

Kurt bit his lip to keep from grinning from ear to ear. After quite a number of private lessons from Santana, Kurt finally felt just about confident enough to speak to Blaine face to face. He had no disillusions about it going anything but awkwardly, or that any conversation between them at this point would be full of potential embarrassment with the number of ways they could misunderstand each other.

But he had faith. Faith that Blaine might just care as much about him as he did about Blaine. That Blaine possibly wanted something more, like he did.

Kurt was ready to try, to give things a shot. So he was doing his best to keep his stuff together as he watched the clock tick tock it’s way closer and closer until the end of piano lessons, having resolved to do this as soon as he possibly could.

“Thanks for a good lesson,” Mrs. Anderson called out, making Kurt look up from where he’d stared at the note sheet trying his best to concentrate, his fingers perfectly poised over the ivory keys of the baby grand that he’d finally been given the opportunity to play. “You’ve done good today. Now go, I heard they’re serving chicken for dinner today, and I for sure don’t wanna miss that.”

The class chuckled quietly around him, but Kurt for his part felt suddenly nervous as he stood from his bench, clutching the shoulder strap of his bag tight with shivering fingers. He’d never approached a guy like this before, and no matter how pumped he’d been just moments before, at the moment he felt nothing but downright panicked at the thought of what he was supposed to do.

Stalling, Kurt watched as Mrs. Anderson picked her stuff together, before patting her son’s shoulder and walking away and out along with the rest of the class. Kurt could also have sworn that he heard Mrs. Anderson tell Blaine ‘good luck’ before she left. He deftly wondered what Blaine could ever need good luck for.

Himself however…

“Blaine-,” Kurt began, as the same time as Blaine spoke his name. “Kurt-”

Looking at one another, both of them fell into giggles. The laughter made Kurt feel a little calmer, and it allowed his head to feel clearer, not quite as clogged with nerves.

“Blaine, uhm,” Kurt began, trying to remember exactly what words to say. “Possiamo… parlare?”

“You… learn Italian?” Blaine interrupted, surprise clear in both his eyes and his voice.

Kurt nodded, “Some, yes,” he said. “You learnt English?”

“Some, yes,” Blaine laughed with a nod. “I want, uhm, speak to you too.”

“Me too,” Kurt said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Well, I wanna talk to you I mean.”

“Oh,” Blaine sighed. “Can I- first?”

“Sure,” Kurt agreed, waving at the other boy to go ahead.

“I like you, Kurt,” Blaine said, each word spoken carefully, as if he were afraid Kurt wouldn’t understand them. “And- maybe… we could… I no know, spend time. Together?”

“I’d like that,” Kurt grinned. Then, bouncing a few times on his feet to gather some courage, he leant over to place a small peck on Blaine’s cheek. Blushing as he drew away, he breathed a happy, “I’d really like that.”

Looking up, he caught a bright smile on Blaine’s lips, and seeing that he felt the corners of his own mouth itch to fall into a mirroring smile. His breath caught when Blaine leant forward in turn, pecking him back, but before he could pull back entirely, Kurt grabbed hold of his neck and connected their lips together.

It was a short kiss, but enough to make Kurt feel lightheaded and short of breath. “I’d _really_ like that,” Kurt exhaled as they parted, his eyes glassy as he opened them to look at Blaine.

“Good,” Blaine said, his voice just as breathy. Taking his time, Blaine stroked his fingers down Kurt’s arm, until finally, he could take hold of Kurt’s hand. Kurt felt his stomach rolling with happiness as the boy lifted his hand to kiss the back of it, and then allowed himself to be pulled along out of the cabin. Just as they were about to step outside though, Blaine pulled back however, throwing Kurt a quick, ‘scusami’, before retracting to his forgotten bag.

Kurt had just had time for a flicker of worry to pass through him, a small spark of fear rushing through him that he’d already managed to screw things over, before Blaine turned back. With two tulips in his hands; one bright red and one shining yellow.

Kurt didn’t need the internet to know what those meant – all he knew were how happy the sight of those two flowers made him feel.

They had some things to work out, as well as some plans to make for how they would keep in contact after summer ended. But Kurt liked to think that things would work out.

If things were meant to be, they would work out.


End file.
